The way to a man's heart is through his stomach
by Shiyaki
Summary: A tiny, blue feather can mean everything or nothing at all.


**Disclaimer: **I sadly don't own Harry Potter (or I would be very rich and would have done different things with the characters) and neither do I own Harvest Moon.

**Author's note**: This wanted to be written for some time now and I finally found the muse. Let's hope my muse for Courage comes back soon-ish as well. I'm a huge Harvest Moon fan and have played about 8-10 games of the series. It still makes me _**so**_ mad, that Carter isn't a secret bachelor in MFoMT, when you can marry a _kappa_ and that disgusting gourmet. I would have done all kinds of ridiculous extra tasks to marry him in the game =_= Anyway, that's the reason this fic happened.

**Rating: T**

**Warning: slash**

* * *

Carter gulped, his gaze remaining fixed on the shiny, blue feather in his hand.

The type of bird, from which the feathers originated, was a rather rare species, so they did not come cheap. That, on the other hand, was probably why they were used for such a purpose. They were special. It was a stroke of pure luck the elusive avian had landed in the church's garden and left behind one of its tail feathers just when he needed it. Otherwise he could have never afforded it.

Gulping for a second time, and with his heart racing a mile a minute, he finally dared to look up from his slightly trembling fingers to the man in front of him. Carter noticed the frown. His breath hitched, while he felt his heart starting to crumble into little pieces. Of course Harry would not accept! What had he been thinking? Too hopeful thoughts obviously…

Before the blond was able to retract his hand, all hopes of a happy future dashed, Harry tilted his head slightly to the side, a bemused expression on his face. "I don't understand." One hand came up to ruffle the black hair on the back of his head. "It's obviously some kind of important gesture to you, but I have honestly no idea what you're trying to tell me, I'm sorry."

Carter blinked, stunned, and let his eyes drop back to the feather in his hand. After getting it, he had tried to work up the courage to actually go to Harry and present it to him. He had thought about and dreamt up all kinds of responses, ranging from exhilarated acceptance - improbable - to getting laughed at in the face – much more likely. The only option, which had never crossed his mind, was this.

He had not forgotten about Harry's moving to Mineral Town just two years prior, per se, Carter just had not thought about the implications. The raven-haired man fit into their small town like he had never resided elsewhere – nobody actually knew where he came from, he would always artfully divert the topic to something else –, but now the cultural difference became painfully clear.

"Oh…" Carter's formerly pale face flushed, when he was suddenly confronted with having to verbalize his question. Just coming over and letting the symbolism of the feather speak for itself had been tough enough. "Alright… uhm…" Another gulp, a deep breath to steel his nerves and he was as ready as possible to make his position known.

"Would you please marry me?"

There, he had said it! It was not the most refined proposal ever, but now it was out in the open. It was a bit awe-inspiring to be honest. Just two years ago he had not believed to ever say these words. And now, here he stood.

Everything had begun one day in fall, when the run-down house near the church – with a splendid ocean-view – had been bought and the new occupant had moved in. Instead of letting Gotz handle the repairs, Harry had done the renovations all on his own and soon it was a very nice house to look at. It was even enclosed in a lush garden come spring.

The raven had been a bit reclusive at times, but was still friendly with everyone. Carter was pretty sure some of the girls had been crushing on the man, which was no surprise. Harry was an attractive, young man after all. The blond had never seen him show any interest, though.

A snowy day in late winter had been the first time Harry had come to him with – what he had called – leftovers. It had been some kind of stew – still hot -, which he had gladly accepted. Carter did not have much money after all and his cooking skills were next to nonexistent. About half a dozen such occurrences later, the first dinner invitation had followed, which had soon turned into a regular event. Of course Carter had felt guilty to virtually live off Harry, but - as though the raven could read his mind - he had been promptly dissuaded from such notions. The somewhat lonely vibes, he often felt from Harry, were the only reason he had not protested more. If Harry wanted company - even without directly saying so -, who was he to deny him? Especially on days like the Starry Night Festival nobody should be alone.

Time had passed by in a similar vein, with shared meals, long talks and festivals in each other's company. Carter had noticed the odd glance in his direction, when Harry had thought he did not notice, but, for some reason, could not bring himself to address it. Maybe, because he did it himself, for reasons he, himself, was not quite sure of.

The end of summer always meant fireworks in Mineral Town and the prior year had been no exception to the rule. Most of the townspeople had paired up and occupied various spots on the beach. Usually Carter only watched the fireworks from the church, because there was no point in going alone, but that year Harry had stood in front of his door at eight in the evening, holding a picnic basket in one hand, and dragged him closer to the ocean.

Harry had been more tense than usual, but would not admit to something being wrong, so Carter had let him be - mostly. Later, after the picnic and when the actual firework had begun, a hand had crept over his in the color-filled night. The blond had looked up, surprised, but had had no time to talk, before a pair of slightly chapped lips had pressed against his. And suddenly he had known what all those glances had been about, Harry's as well as his own. He had kissed back, of course, because, really, how could he refuse something that felt so incredibly right and like it had been in the making for quite some time now?

In the following seasons they had shared many more kisses, but their peaceful coexistence had changed surprisingly little. They had still shared meals and kept each other company every day. No inappropriate activities had, of course, taken place. The kisses had just integrated themselves into their everyday life and were never discussed. Both of them were friendly people, but particularly awkward when talking about such intimate emotions. It was enough to see the tender feelings in each other's eyes. Or rather _had_ been enough. Till now.

Harry's stunned expression had melted into a soft smile in the meanwhile. Maybe, just maybe, he would get his consent after all? "Wait here." Carter frowned, puzzled, but did as told and watched Harry disappear into the sitting room. He could hear a drawer being opened, then closed, before the raven came back into the hallway, looking surprisingly sheepish.

"I've waited for the right moment, but it looks like you beat me to it." Harry reverently plucked the blue feather out of the blond's hand and put a small, black box into it instead. Still slightly confused, but hopeful, Carter opened it and gulped thickly. The box contained a golden, mostly unadorned, but still stunning, band. He looked up to see Harry examine the feather with a newfound awe.

"I gather, it's a 'yes' then."


End file.
